Scars
by K. A. Maples
Summary: Future Set, AU: Alphonse is on the trail of a killer, and it leads him back to Scar. FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1: Tiny Dancer

**Scars Chapter 1: Tiny Dancer**

_Author's Note: Greetings and Salutations, all! Welcome to my first attempt at a multi-chapter FullMetal Alchemist story! For those of you who are interested, this is a much expanded version of the drabble 'Scars', which can be found in my FMA drabble series._

_I'd like to take this moment to offer up praise to my beta reader, **Mint Pizza Queen**_. _I have no doubt that by the time this story is done, she'll be crazier than I am._

Alphonse Elric was fairly certain his partner didn't know he watched her dance every morning. It was a tradition of sorts, going back almost three years now. She would go into the empty courtyard before dawn and dance to music only she could hear, and Al would stand on the balcony of his flat, have his morning cigarette, watch, and think.

Like most State Alchemists, the tiny dancer had many names. Officially, she was Shadow Alchemist Major Ishtar. When she wasn't around, the others referred to her as the Ishbalan. To Al, she was just Izabel (and to her, he was Alphonse). To her little brother, she was Izzy.

The only sounds in the Barracks Complex this early in the morning were those of the bangles and bracelets chiming together as Izabel moved. They were the only ones awake now.

Something about the stillness of this time of day made it easier for Al to think.

At the moment, he was thinking about the case file spread out across his bed.

Three state Alchemists in the space of a month. All found dead around the Ishbalan Resettlement Sector, their skulls crushed by an impossible force. Everyone knew who did it. After all, _he'd_ done it before, killing scores of Alchemists before disappearing more than a decade ago.

It was _easy_ to say it was Scar.

And Al was the only person who didn't think the easy answer was the right one.

Yes, Scar was _capable _of the killings… but it just didn't feel right. The killings seemed more designed to agitate people against the Ishbalan refugees.

Al looked down at the courtyard at the Ishbalan Alchemist without really seeing her. He took a drag off his cigarette and held the smoke in his lungs until they cried for air, remembering the sad and angry Ishbalan as he'd last seen him, before regaining his body. Even after all this time, the image remained sharp and clear as a photograph. A half a smile tugged at the young Major's lips. Scar wouldn't recognize him.

Izabel was whirling in one place, her copious jewelry flashing like silver fire in the faint light of the beginnings of dawn. It had been she who had given Al his first leads as to where Scar was now. He was _sure_ that proving Scar's innocence was the key to cracking this case.

Izabel stopped moving, her arms raised high and her skirt still twisting around her legs. Al stubbed out his cigarette and went inside to feed the cats. Azazel was already climbing up the drapes, making the most unholy racket.

There was a lot of work to be done today.


	2. Chapter 2: This is the Life

**Scars Chapter Two: This is the Life**

"I swear, I think you're allergic to the standard uniform." Al said as Izabel fell into step beside him, clinking and chiming with each movement. "Aren't you cold?" he teased, like he did every morning.

"I wear what I please." Izabel retorted, just as she did every morning, each step revealing shapely brown legs weighted down with enough jewelry to buy a house. "Unlike your uniform, my chosen working costume allows me the freedom of movement I require…"

Al had always thought he cut a rather dashing figure in the regulation uniform, and that it gave him plenty of freedom to move. "And provides ample distraction to any male within sight of you…"

"It's not my fault you males cannot keep your heads when confronted with a bit of flesh." Her bare feet made slapping sounds each time they hit the tiled floor. Al suspected she had the thickest soles of anyone he'd ever known.

"Any leads?" he asked as they turned a corner, his grey eyes boring into Izabel's red ones. She thought looking for Scar was a waste of time at best (and had made this view quite plain in very loud tones of voice), and had been particularly difficult of late.

The Ishbalan woman sighed. "There are _unconfirmed_ reports of a man matching his description in a refugee camp to the west of Central." She said. "It's a two day train ride." Her tone was full of warning. "And there's no proof that it's him. It'd be a waste of our time to go chasing after the rumor."

"I'll get the tickets. We can leave tomorrow." Al said, running his hand through his short, honey colored hair before producing a cigarette.

"You don't listen to anything I say, do you?"

"Oh, I listen," Al assured his partner, "I'm just listening too well. You wouldn't have said anything if you actually thought this was a false lead." He sighed, seeing Izabel's glare. "The sooner we eliminate Scar, the sooner we can prove who's really doing this."

"There were more attacks on my people during the night." Izabel said darkly. "Central's getting to be a bad place for us."

"All the more reason to get away for a few days."

"Who will feed your cats? Colonel Elric is still in Southern, and Abraham will be in the school dormitories if I'm gone." It was a last ditch attempt, and they both knew it.

"Kain will still be here, and he has a key." Al pointed out, using his 'logical' voice. He clapped her on the shoulder. "Try to relax. It'll do us both good to get out."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a funny definition of good, Alphonse?" she groused.

"You do, all the time."


	3. Chapter 3: The Drinking Song

**Chapter 3: The Drinking Song**

The tent city seemed to sprawl out as far as the eye could see, surrounding the old fort like a scab. It reeked of too many people crammed too close together with poor sanitation and worse food and water. Pigs roamed the spaces between tents, hunting out a meager living on the humans' leavings. The flies were the only things that flourished here. The few children to be found couldn't even find the energy to play.

A man staggered out of one of the tents with a muffled groan as a cold wind ruffled his short, silvery hair. This was his Hell, but he had long since stopped caring. His friend made it all better.

His staggering footsteps took him away from the squalid scrap of canvas he used for shelter, following his beloved friend's siren call.

* * *

Alphonse Elric looked down from the fort's walls, only half listening to the regiment commander prattle. "Like children, really." The man said. "Can't even keep their places clean. Letting animals roam all over the place. Filth, really. We're going them a favor by taking care of them."

"Hm. Strange." Al took a long drag off his cigarette, letting his other hand just _feel_ the rough, grainy texture of the stone beneath it. "Some of the neatest people I've ever known have been Ishbalan." He took another drag, then stubbed out the dog end and looked at it. _He_ could hear the gentle tinkle of metal on metal getting closer.

This was going to be funny.

"Alphonse. Lieutenant General Fitzhenry." Izabel said softly.

"Ah." Al smiled pleasantly, turning around. "Lt. General, have you been introduced to my partner, Shadow Alchemist Major Ishtar?"

The man looked as though he had just swallowed a lit cigarette. "I… haven't had the pleasure." He put on a smile that made him look like he was about to be ill and took Izabel's hand; planting a kiss just above the rings that lined her fingers like armor. "A pleasure, miss."

Izabel's eyes locked on the still smiling Alphonse, her expression extremely suspicious as she drew her hand back.

"We were just having the most fascinating discussion about Ishbalans." Al said, producing a fresh cigarette. He twirled it between his fingers, giving both people a boyish grin. "Lt. General Fitzhenry, do you know why my partner is called the Shadow Alchemist?"

"No, Major Elric, I do not." The man said stiffly.

"It's because she has this most fascinating ability with Alchemy. You see, the Major here can manipulate light and shadow… and create the most realistic illusions. She even created an array that allows her to see what's actually happened in a place in the recent past, complete with sound."

Izabel had drawn herself up to her full height (which wasn't very much, to be honest), and the Lieutenant General had lost some of the color in his cheeks. "Really." He said faintly. "How… fascinating."

"Isn't it just? Would you like a demonstration? Major Ishtar?"

"Oh, oh that won't be necessary, no, no, no…" The man said, holding up both hands and putting on a very large, very fake smile.

"Oh, but you just _have_ to see it." Al continued, still twirling the cigarette and smiling like a little boy who'd just put a frog in his sister's underwear drawer. Izabel had her chalk out, her eyes going from Al to the Lt. General and back again.

"We have a sighting." She said, breaking into the tense silence that had sprung up.

Al's head snapped around suddenly, his little game of Torment the Jackass forgotten. "Show me."

* * *

"How can people live like this?" Alphonse asked, the horror he felt reflecting in his grey eyes as he walked through the encampment.

"You can get used to anything. And as they say, a body at rest tends to stay at rest." Izabel said, her face as composed as a statue's. "These people are bodies at rest."

"I notice…" the tall blond drawled, "that you seem to be drawing more looks than I am. Why is that?"

"Because I am a beautiful woman, and you, Alphonse, are a pasty man in funny clothing." Izabel said without missing a beat. Al arched an eyebrow, and the woman sighed. "It's very complicated and not any of your business."

"Alright. Now, which way?" Al sighed. He knew when he should push and when he should let sleeping dogs lay.

"Just follow your nose. We're looking for the reek of alcohol." Izabel wrinkled her nose in distaste. "According to rumors, if the man _is_ Scar, he's fallen a long way from the mighty hero I've heard so many stories about."

"Hero?" Al asked, cocking his head to one side, his grey eyes boring into the back of Izabel's dark head. "He was a mass murderer, you know."

"One country's mass murderer is another country's hero, Alphonse."

"Mm." Al looked around him, pursing his lips and running a hand through his hair. "True. But it's really sad when a nation's hero is a mass murderer."

Izabel gave him a long, hard look before letting out a sigh. "Such is life, Alphonse."

"You're too young to be so cynical."

"You're too old to be so lighthearted."

"You're only as old as you feel."

"Then I should be getting my pension about now. We're here." She pointed to a particularly large, grubby tent. A man stumbled out, clutching a bottle as if it were a life preserver. Izabel wrinkled her nose as the man staggered past.

"Off we go, into the breach…" Al sighed, reaching for the tent flap.

"What do you mean 'we', kimosabe? As I recall, Scar kills people like me."

"That was a long time ago."

"I'll stand guard out here, thanks."

"Wouldn't think you'd be afraid of going into a bar."

"Alphonse, I have the utmost respect for you." Izabel took three large steps forward, closing the distance between herself and the much taller blond. She looked up at him, menace in her eyes as she touched the small arrays etched into her rings, letting them cover her fingers in hard, sharp metal sheathes. "But I am not going in there. Not even if the Furher himself ordered me to." She held one of the claws up under Al's nose. "Am I clear?"

"Like crystal." Al said, giving her a little smile and a pat on the head. He knew when she was actually angry and when she was just making a point. Izabel was more or less an open book to him. "I won't be long."

* * *

Heads turned as the tall blond man entered the tent city bar. His gray eyes scanned the drinkers until they came to rest on a familiar profile. He slid gracefully into the seat next to the larger, older man and ordered a drink in passable Ishbalan.

Scar turned a red eye on the newcomer beside him. There was something familiar about the man, but Scar could not quite place it through the haze that covered his mind.

The young man did not speak again until after his drink arrived. "Still out to kill all the State Alchemists?" he asked softly.

Scar looked back up from his glass to meet the gray-eyed gaze head on. "I… know you…"

"I once asked you if you thought I was human."

"…Alphonse…"

"In the flesh." The man said with a nod.

"…What do you want?"

"To help you." Alphonse said.

"I don't need help." Scar growled into his glass, turning away from the younger man.

Al's eyes traveled over Scar's worn, tired face, then around the dive of a bar, then to Scar's drink. "Are you sure?"

"Very." Scar rose unsteadily to his feet, glaring down at the younger man. Alphonse looked up at him.

"Someone is pretending to be you." He said quietly, meeting Scar's gaze steadily. "He's killing people, and it's making life even harder for Ishbalans than it already is."

"I don't…"

The world would never know what Scar didn't do, for at that moment his body decided that enough was enough, and that it wanted to lay down RIGHT NOW.

"Well." Al said to himself as Scar crashed to the floor. "That makes the next part a bit easier."


	4. Chapter 4: Quiet Places

Scars 

**Chapter 4: Quiet Places**

_Author's Note : Finally, at long last, long after everyone had given up hope… an update. Thanks once again to Mint Pizza Queen, who read the whole chapter in bits and peices (this is a long one, folks !), and special thanks and dedication to__Shiruba Neko__, the only person who reviewed, and who's stories (Illness and Behind Red Eyes) went a long way towards inspiring this little piece of insanity._

_Just for the record, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, or any of its characters. Izabel and Grace are mine, though, and I think the plot is reasonably original. And the song **Imandote** DOES belong to me._

"You have finally lost your mind, Alphonse."

A woman.

Scar was somewhere with a woman. And Alphonse. _Human_ Alphonse. And he was being jostled. He did not like this, not one bit.

"Look, Scar is in no shape to have done _anything_ in the past month. This is the proof we _need_."

"And this involves you taking him home… how?"

"He needs help. He's saved me before. He's my _friend_, Izabel."

"He's awake." Izabel said flatly.

Scar opened his eyes with great reluctance to find two people regarding him intently. The man (_Alphonse_, the voice of memory reminded him) regarded him with the kind of concern Scar never would have expected from someone wearing _that_ uniform. Scar chose to study him, since that made his head hurt less than moving it did.

A fine boned angular face…. Grey eyes with coppery flecks… hair the color of honey… yes, this man could easily be kin to Edward Elric.

Alphonse leaned forward. "Scar? Are you alright?"

Scar chose not to answer, instead letting his gaze drift to this… Izabel.

It was a shock to his system to see an Ishbalan woman with the State Alchemist watch on a chain around her neck. It was a bit less of a shock to see her bedecked in enough jewelry to pay the bride price of a lord's daughter, marred though it was by those devil cursed arrays. There was something about the pattern of the jewelry that brought to mind long ago lessons. It was _important_, the functioning bit of his mind said, but he couldn't remember _why_. It was as if he was thinking through a thick fog

The woman smiled pleasantly, crossed her ankles demurely, and told him in Ishbalan, _"If you so much as twitch your right hand, I will break your neck."_

Now _that_ cut through the fog.

Alphonse shot the woman a quizzical glance, sitting back. "What did you just say?"

"I was merely offering a traditional greeting, Alphonse." She lied smoothly in the unmusical language of Amestris. She switched back to Ishbalan, the smile locked in place. _"Just nod. Don't argue."_

Scar nodded slowly, the let out a low groan. His head was going to explode. He needed a _drink_. A cool hand touched the side of his face. "Scar?" Alphonse said, his tone growing increasingly worried. He put the hand under Scar's chin and looked him square in the face, grey eyes soaking in every detail. "Izabel, watch him. I'll be right back."

And suddenly Scar, sick as a dog, was left alone with someone who had just threatened to break his neck. She watched him as warily as he watched her. There was maybe a foot of space between them—

Scar looked around veeeery slowly.

Yes. He was on a train. And it was lurching in a most alarming way. His right hand was resting in his lap. The woman would be on him before he could raise it to do much of anything. However, at this point, a broken neck was _very_ inviting, anything to be rid of the headache!

His stomach gave a lurch as the carriage jolted, and he put his head in his hand.

"_How the mighty have fallen."_ The woman said in soft Ishbalan. _"My father thought you would be our savior."_

Scar looked up slowly to meet her gaze. He found only sadness and mild reproach there. _"Who are you… to say anything?"_

_"Someone who learned long ago that the only one who can save me is me. If I don't say something, who will?"_

The compartment door banged open, revealing Alphonse and a tray. Balanced on said tray were a variety of cups and glasses, all filled with liquids in shades of browns, reds, oranges, and purples. From one of the mugs near the center of the tray, something was steaming. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got everything," the man explained, suddenly looking far younger than his years. He set the tray gently beside Scar, and then resumed his seat on the opposite bench.

Scar regarded the drinks dubiously. What he _really _needed was most definitely not here. But he was also _very_ thirsty. His hand hovered over the drinks before he picked up the red one. _Tomato juice_, the part of his mind not screaming in pain supplied. It went down smooth… and came back up rough.

"Here, let me clean that up."

* * *

"So," Alphonse said, "That's the situation. We need your help to stop this man."

"You want me to help State Alchemists." Scar said flatly.

"We're not the enemy, Scar. You put your quest to an end ten years ago." Alphonse tried to duck his head to meet Scar's eyes, which were firmly glued to the floor.

It was a very clean floor, thanks to Alphonse. And it was a floor devoid of Izabel's feet, as she was currently camping in the train's tiny washroom, trying to get clean.

"It's not just us you're helping." Alphonse said seriously. "Since this started, there's been a dramatic rise in Anti-Ishbalan sentiment across the country. Nobody's been killed _yet_, but it's only a matter of time. I don't want that to happen. And neither do you."

Scar's eyes rose for just a moment, and caught on Alphonse's. 'How can he make them so big?' he wondered. He found himself nodding, anything to make Alphonse stop looking at him as if he'd been caught kicking puppies in the street. 'They're very pretty…' a traitorous bit of his mind whispered.

"You'll have to stay at my flat, of course." Alphonse was saying.

The words simply didn't register.

* * *

Two days without a drink.

Scar's hands were shaking, and if anything, he felt worse now than he had when he'd woken up on the train.

All he needed was a drink, and he'd be fine.

Just.

One.

Little.

Drink.

"We're here." Izabel announced unnecessarily as the train screeched to a halt. Alphonse stopped playing with his cigarette and stood up. Scar pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and followed the major's lead. Izabel followed after Scar.

And yet, on the platform, they attracted almost no attention.

Almost.

It started as a low buzz, and then became a definite noise, then "_zzzizzzizzzeizzeeizzeeizzee!_ _Izzy Izzy_ **_Izzy Izzy IZZY!"_** Something small and dark rocketed out of the crowd, darting right past Alphonse and Scar, and caught Izabel with a flying tackle that sent the State Alchemist sprawling. The blur resolved itself into a boy in some kind of uniform that Scar could not identify, with curly black hair, dark skin, and the crimson eyes of a fellow Ishbalan.

"Hello Abraham. It's nice to see you too." Al deadpanned. The boy was too busy regaling his sister, still on the floor with him sitting across her legs, with stories of what she had missed while she had been gone to notice the two men.

"I'm sorry, he got away from me!" a dark haired woman called, elbowing her way through the crowd with a blond toddler on her hip. Another black haired boy, much younger than Abraham, darted from under the woman's feet and latched himself onto Al's leg with a jubilant cry of "Uncle Al!"

"It's alright, Rose." Al said, patting his nephew's head. The boy grinned his gap toothed grin up at him before turning large, inquisitive golden eyes on Scar, sticking a thumb into his mouth.

Horror of horrors. The elder Elric was _breeding_.

"I'm afraid Ed couldn't make it. He just got in, and you know how the Furher is." Rose said, planting a quick peck on Al's cheek before turning her own gaze onto Scar. "I… take it your trip was successful?"

"You could say that." Al took the blond toddler, a little girl, and gave her a hug and a quick kiss. "It's a long story."

The little boy detached himself from Alphonse's leg and promptly latched onto Scar's. "HiI'mKlausareyouafriendofUncleAl'swhat'syournamedoyoulikekittiesUncleAlhaslotsofkittiesbutMommysayswecan'thaveoneuntilHilde'sbiggerI'dratherhaveakitty-"

Dear God, didn't this child need to _breath_?

"Klaus, don't bother the nice man," Rose said, taking the child by the hand and offering Scar an apologetic smile. Scar managed an expression that was not a scowl.

'Just when,' he wondered, 'did I loose control of my life?'

* * *

Alphonse Elric was insane.

Scar had come to this conclusion upon his arrival in the young Alchemist's flat. It was fairly small, with the living room and kitchen combined into a single room and a closet of a bathroom, and a balcony that overlooked a courtyard. It was bare of any kind of personal decoration (unless one counted several bookcases full of books on Alchemy)… and it was infested with cats. They managed to cover every flat surface in the flat, with two nearly tripping Scar as he entered (though the Ishbalan did note that the apartment was free of that 'too many kitties' smell).

"I hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch." Alphonse said, clearing several of the beasts off the aforementioned piece of furniture. It was like a plague. "Have a seat. Would you like something to eat? I'm starved. I'm afraid I can't offer much in the way of entertainment." Alphonse flushed a little and made a small gesture around the flat.

It was clear, upon inspection, that this was the home of someone who didn't often have people over. Probably because of the cats.

Scar sank slowly into the couch. Despite its worn, hairy appearance, it was _sinfully_ comfortable. He could see Alphonse in the kitchen, pulling an odd shaped pan down from a shelf. It was a few moments before Scar registered that the alchemist was still talking. "-usually just me and the kitties. Do you like Xianian food? Gracie—she's a major with Investigations – she's from Xian, and she taught me how to do this."

Scar found himself nodding along. Something about Alphonse's voice was very soothing, like the sounds of rain hitting the roof while you're safely inside with a mug of something hot in your hands. One of the cats, a small grey thing with coppery eyes, began butting Scar's hand in silent appeal. Alphonse was chopping vegetables and dropping them into the pan, still chattering about nothing at all. It was very… peaceful.

And like all good things, it came to an end in blood and pain.

A thousand sharp needles drove themselves into Scar's scalp, causing the man to launch himself off the couch with a startled yelp. The needles dug in deeper as he tried to remove whatever was attacking him, and the Ishbalan could see blood dribbling down his face. Alphonse had abandoned his cooking and was now grabbing Scar's shoulder. "Azazel! Get down!"

The thousand needles of agony dug deep into Scar's scalp before launching off, landing lightly on Alphonse's shoulder. The younger man released Scar and cradled the beast in his arms as one might a baby. Scar's right arm twitched with the urge to _destroy_ it. The beast was a pale gold in color, save for its bloody paws, with long hair and bright yellow eyes. "I'm sorry. Azazel likes to perch." Alphonse said, still cradling the demon. "Don't you boy?" he said in a tender tone, hugging the monster closer. It continued to glare at Scar with those evil yellow eyes. "He's a sweetheart, really, once you get to know him. Oh! You're bleeding!"

Alphonse placed the cat gently on the floor and hurried into the bathroom, uttering apologies on behalf of the clearly unapologetic demon-cat. Scar was sure the beast was laughing at him. He aimed a kick at Azazel, who dodged it easily, fluffy tail waving like a banner.

Alphonse returned with a first aid kit, utterly unaware of the mounting tension between Scar and Azazel. "Have a seat. I want to get a good look." He ushered Scar back to the couch (already reinfested with cats) and got him to sit down. While the blond was tall, he still only just came up to Scar's chin, so the Ishbalan was willing to concede the necessity of sitting down. Alphonse moved behind Scar and pressed gentle fingers to his scalp, parting the hair in search of scratches.

"Your… cat is named after a demon." Scar pointed out with a growl.

"Brother's idea of a joke." Alphonse said, his fingers moving slowly. "Azazel's a real sweetheart. He just likes to pounce."

The demon was staring at Scar, licking its bloody claws with an expression of rapture.

"Right." Scar said darkly. Alphonse didn't seem to notice.

"Doesn't look too bad," The alchemist announced. "Just a few scratches. Heads just like to bleed. This is going to sting."

Scar didn't even notice the sting of the antiseptic Alphonse applied to the gouges in his scalp, but he was incredibly aware of the younger man's hand resting on his shoulder. The hand traveled up, just brushing Scar's neck before catching his chin and turning his head. Alphonse carefully wiped the blood from Scar's face, and then gave him a grin. "See? Not near as bad as it looked." He released Scar's chin. "Now let's see if I can't save dinner." He returned to the kitchen, with Azazel following.

All Scar's poor, frazzled brain would let him do was watch.

* * *

Edward Elric was rather content with his life.

His brother was flesh and blood again, he had a wife and children who loved and adored him (even if his son had yet to master the idea of 'quiet'), he was a respected Alchemist, and he had a bastard Furher to make fun of.

Okay, so he still had to deal with the automail and _yes_, he _would_ like to be a little taller, but all and all, life was good.

"Daddydaddydaddy! UncleAlbroughtanewfriendhomeandhehasafunnymarkonhisheadandhewasallbigandhewouldn'ttalktomeandUncleAldidn'tbringmeanypresentscanwehaveakitty?"

"Not until Hilde is older." Ed said automatically. "Wait. What was that?"

"CanwehaveakittyDaddyplease-"

"Before that." The Fullmetal Alchemist said, his eyes searching out his wife. She had her head bent studiously next to his stepson's, looking over the boy's homework. "Rose…"

"… yes."

"Oh god. He's upgraded from kittens to serial killers."

"What'sacerialkillerdoeshenotlikecerialIlikecerialitsyummycanwegetakitty?"

* * *

It was late when the Fullmetal Alchemist arrived at his brother's door. He seriously considered breaking it down, then decided against it. God only knew what kind of havoc would be wrought if Azazel was let loose into the world. Therefore, he knocked. Loudly. The door opened after only a few moments of pounding, and Al looked down at his brother with a finger pressed to his lips. "He's asleep." The younger alchemist whispered.

Edward Elric had a lot of patience when it came to Alphonse. However, tonight it had reached the end.

The Alchemist marched into the flat and carefully scooped one of Al's kittens up from the floor and held it under his brother's nose. "_This_," he said, shaking the poor creature just a bit, "is a kitten. _That_," he pointed to the blanket-draped figure of Scar, asleep on the couch, "is a wanted serial killer whose preferred prey is State Alchemists. Which, I might remind you, _you are._" He continued to shake the kitten under Al's nose, his voice rising with every word. "Scar is not a stray kitten that you can bring home and feed!"

Al gently plucked the kitten from Ed's hand, cradling it in his arms. "I know that, Brother," He let the kitten nibble his fingers a moment before returning it to the floor. "But he needs my help."

"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you." Ed groused.

Al just smiled. "Of course I have. Would you like something to eat? I've got a little stir fry left."

* * *

Scar was only faintly aware of the voice coming from what passed for Alphonse's kitchen. It wasn't his host's. No. It was _that woman_. A familiar smell, strong and hinting of cool nights surrounded by sand, tickled at his nose. He opened his eyes reluctantly, feeling the pull of skin opened by demonic cats. The demon in question was currently perched on the back of the couch, regarding him with evil yellow eyes.

_I will destroy you_, those eyes said.

_That woman_ was still singing. He could make out the words now, and they made his blood run cold. The last time he had heard that song, it had come from the lips of an old beggar man. He'd been chased out of the village with stones and curses. Ishbala did not appreciate heretics.

**_"Imandote stand at the scene of the siege and the slaughter_****_  
_****_Where thirty men died for the price of a bottle of water_****_  
_****_Teardrops swell his fevered eyes_****_  
_****_He stand there on that plain_****_  
_****_Where one day thirty young men died_****_  
_****_This day one old man call down the rain"_**

_**"Cry Imandote, cry Imandote**_****

_**"Turtle and Real Frank fight for the land**_**_  
_**_**cause it's God's Will**_**_  
_**_**Imandote draw a line in the sand**_**_  
_**_**Where the blood spill**_**_  
_**_**The rain falls on both sides**_**_  
_**_**Wash their bloody sands underground**_**_  
_**_**Turtle and Real Frank's foolish pride**_**_  
_**_**Keep them from the truth they've found**_****

_**"Cry Imandote, cry Imandote**_****

_**"Imandote stand at the gates of the Garden of Eden**_**_  
_**_**He like how it grow**_**_  
_**_**But he wait cause he can't take his seed in**_**_  
_**_**Practice all his magic ways**_**_  
_**_**Fill them up with strength and pride**_**_  
_**_**He bring them to the very gates**_**_  
_**_**But each one must find a way inside**_****

_**"Say Imandote, say Imandote**_****

_**"Imandote take his son and his daughters to reason**_**_  
_**_**Show them the place for each time and thing and it's season**_**_  
_**_**The rain that fall from winter sky**_**_  
_**_**Go back to the sky one day**_**_  
_**_**The water we drink and the tears we cry**_**_  
_**_**Wind up in the same place**_****

_**"Say Imandote, say Imandote**_****

_**"Imandote stand once again at the scene of the slaughter**_**_  
_**_**With his son by the hand**_**_  
_**_**On each shoulder he carry one daughter**_**_  
_**_**Why some men pay the heavy price**_**_  
_**_**Imandote try to explain**_**_  
_**_**Then Imandote's baby daughter cry**_**_  
_**_**"But anyone can make it rain!"**_****

_**"Say Imandote, say Imandote**_****

_**"Walk on the land and of slaughter you may see plenty**_**_  
_**_**Men with their hands and their hearts and their bellies all empty**_**_  
_**_**The Earth got plenty to go round**_**_  
_**_**It goes around each day**_**_  
_**_**IF there's no water to be found**_**_  
_**_**It's man and not God's way**_****

_**"Say Imandote, say Imandote**_****

_**"Imandote stand at the scene of the siege and the slaughter**_**_  
_**_**Where thirty men died for the price of a bottle of water**_**_  
_**_**The salty teardrops burn his eyes**_**_  
_**_**He stand there on that plain**_**_  
_**_**Where thirty thirsty young men died**_**_  
_**_**Imandote call down the rain**_****

_**"Cry Imandote, cry Imandote..."**_

Scar slowly got to his feet, letting the cover slip away, and staggered into the kitchen. Izabel was bent over the tiny stove, stirring something brown and wonderful smelling. _"I thought the followers of Imandote were forbidden to fight."_ Scar said slowly.

Izabel offered him a cheerless smile. _"I'm not very good with religion."_ She lifted the pot carefully off the stove and set it down on the counter. _"If you would be so good as to grab a couple of cups..," _she said, gesturing towards the cabinets above her head. _"It's kava. I thought you might like some, after having to deal with Azazel."_

"_Where did you get kava around here?" _Scar asked suspiciously. It certainly **smelled** like kava...

"_Alphonse has a friend who is very good with plants. He grows it for me because I ask him nicely. The cups, please. I can't reach."_ She gestured towards the cabinets again with a small scowl.

_"Where is Alphonse?"_

_"Meeting with Our Beloved Leader,"_ Izabel made a face, _"keeping things under control so that you aren't shot on sight. Which is what Colonel Elric almost did. Just so you know: You are not a kitten."_

Scar stared at the woman for a long, long time before opening the cabinet and retrieving a pair of mugs. _"Why is he doing this?"_

_"Because he still believes in justice, I think."_ Izabel carefully measured out the kava, and Scar watched the warm brown liquid settle. How long had it been since he'd had kava? He honestly couldn't remember.

It burned going down, forcing total awareness on Scar. Oh yes... this was _kava_! He eyed Izabel over the rim of the mug. _"... thank you."_ He said, very reluctantly.

"_Damn. Now I owe Alphonse money."_

* * *

"I would think…" the Furher drawled, eyeing Al with his one good eye the way one might an errant child, "that Major Ishtar would have sufficient expertise in all things Ishbalan."

Al cleared his throat, running a hand swiftly through his hair before he answered. "Major Ishtar has quiet a bit of knowledge about her people, but the fact remains that she's had very little to do with them since she was a young child, Furher Mustang. My contact is much more entrenched in the community. He can go places Major Ishtar can't."

"Hn." Roy Mustang leaned forward, dark eye boring into Al as if he could read the younger man's mind. "Did you find Scar?" he asked, too lightly.

"Yes, sir. He is no longer a threat to anyone but himself. There is no conceivable way he could have committed the murders."

"Then he's lost his right arm?"

"No, sir."

"And he still has the tattoo?"

"Yes, sir."

"And he's not dangerous."

"He's more likely to drink himself to death than go hunting Alchemists, sir."

Roy watched Al as if waiting for him to crack. Al just stood there, hands behind his back, his face as still as a statue's. Finally, Roy leaned back. "Dismissed, Major."

"Thank you, sir." Al shot off a salute and left the office. He didn't relax until he was almost back to the Barracks.

Which was when he ran into a wall of blue cloth and muscle.

"Welcome back, Al." Kain Fury said, peering around the wall of muscle. He gave the Alchemist a smile as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "The cats missed you, and Azazel bit me." He held up the bandaged hand as proof.

"Thanks Kain. I really don't know what's gotten into him. He's such a—"

"Sweetheart." Fury finished for him with a roll of his eyes.

"Mornin'." The wall rumbled.

"Good morning, Grace."

Grace the Living Wall crossed her arms over her impressive chest, looking down at Al. Of course, Grace looked down on everyone. It was a side effect of being built along the same lines as an Armstrong, though Grace was considerably more slender. However, Al found the Strong Arm Alchemist to be better company than Fury's bodyguard. Grace was just _mean_ most of the time… as long as Izabel wasn't concerned. Which only made matters worse.

"Did you find him?" Fury asked, stepping around Grace (who was still doing her very best wall impersonation). Al nodded, ignoring Grace's continued glare. "And?" The Lt. Colonel prompted.

"It wasn't him."

"That's not particularly comforting. It means we have an UNSUB running loose in Central."

"But it's one less suspect, at least."

"Unless it's more than one guy." Grace rumbled. "Couple of copy cats out to make you all pay for being assholes." The Xianian's infamously low opinion struck again.

"I'm still not sure it's even an Ishbalan doing this." Al pointed out as he began walking again. Fury fell into step beside him, and Grace followed. "It's just too… convenient."

"You've said that before, but you never go into detail." Fury pointed out. "Personally, I would very much like to hear more. We could go to—" he trailed off as he saw Al shaking his head with a sad smile.

"We've already tried this… and besides, I've got a guest over."

"Anyone I know?" Fury asked, tilting his head.

"You could say that." Al said, resolutely not looking at Fury.

"Who is it?"

Al walked a little faster. "Just an old friend. And I've left him with Izabel, so I need to hurry before she does something drastic."

* * *

Al listened at the door for a long time, checking for sounds of fighting. It was… quiet. Very, very quiet. And for some reason, this disturbed Al more than the idea that Scar and Izabel were having a fantastic row.

Izabel _liked_ having fantastic rows with people. It made her happy for some reason Al had never been able to fathom. The only person she never turned her biting sarcasm on was Abe, who was still in class at this time of day. He opened the door slowly and peered inside.

Two sets of red eyes and a baker's dozen in various shades of yellow and green watched him.

Azazel was on the ceiling fan.

He was missing fur.

"Welcome back, Alphonse. I trust the meeting went well?" Izabel said, sipping from a mug. She was looking particularly pleased with herself. Scar was looking very stony, but there was something in his eyes…

"As well as to be expected. What did you two do to my cat?"

"Do?" Izabel asked innocently. Scar said nothing. "I do not recall doing anything. Besides spending my time talking to Scar." She shrugged her shoulders. "We had kava. We discussed things. If something befell Azazel, it was none of our doing."

Scar looked up at the ceiling fan, and at Azazel, who hissed. Was he _grinning?_

Well, no. Not with the cat latched on to his face.

"Azazel! DOWN!"

* * *

It had been worth it. Scar had known that from the moment the demon had been sent racing up the wall. It had all been worth it. The waiting. The uncomfortable position. The feeding of the vile beast. It had been worth it.

Alphonse was tending the scratches on his face, making sympathetic noises.

Azazel had been banished to the balcony.

Yes, it had most definitely been worth it.

* * *

The file hit Al's desk with an ominous thud. It was easily a foot thick, and a few gruesome pictures spilled out. Nina smiled up at him from one of them. The Major looked up, setting his coffee cup down.

Fury was not smiling. But Grace was. Not a good sign.

"So, who's watching your guest today?" The older man in carefully measured tones.

"Rose." Al said.

"Sometimes I just can't believe you, Al. I mean, that chimera was one thing, but this! Can it be that you've actually forgotten what he did? How many lives he destroyed?"

"I haven't." Al said calmly, picking up the picture of Nina. "And I don't think he has, either." He leaned back in his chair. He would have preferred to stay with Scar, but some things (like paperwork) just couldn't be avoided. People would talk if he didn't show up at the office.

Izabel had her head bent over a file of her own. Another case that had been shoved onto the backburner with the attacks on the state alchemists. She was ignoring them, and Fury was ignoring her. This was between him and Al.

"Besides eliminating him as a suspect, has he been any help at all?" Fury asked, hands on his hips.

"He's been going over the file. And he's provided some very useful insight." Al was being defensive and he knew it. However, he wasn't about to back down. Not over this. "Tomorrow I'm taking him into the Ishbalan district. We're going to look at some of the crime scenes."

"I want to see him. Here. As soon as you're done."

He was using his 'boss of me' tone. And Al knew better than to argue. "Yes, sir."


	5. Chapter 5: A Gathering of Clouds

**Chapter 5: A Gathering of Clouds**

_A/N: Thanks once again to Mint Pizza Queen for beta-ing, and to Shiburu Neko (I'm too tired to look up how its actually spelled, so please forgive me if I spelled it wrong) for loving it, and plugging it. We are engaged in a mutual love fest here. Now if only the rest of you gentle readers would review... :picks up the Hellspork:_

The room went quiet as Scar entered a few steps behind Alphonse. All heads, save four, turned towards the Ishbalan, watching him intently.

Two of the heads that did not turn belonged to Izabel and her brother, who was seated at a low table with the owners of the other two heads. Both children, though both older than Abraham. One was a dark haired boy of perhaps ten, the other an older girl with dishwater blond hair and a pair of wire-framed glasses. Slowly, she turned her head to look at what had caused the sudden quiet. Her eyes were green. There was something faintly familiar about the face.

"Elysia, I don't get this one." Abraham said, still not looking up as he slid a piece of paper across the table towards the girl. She blinked, her attention once again gone from Scar.

Alphonse hadn't stopped walking towards the door at the other end of the room, and Scar wisely decided to keep following him.

Heads turned as they went, silently accusing. He had no friends here.

Alphonse opened the door to the quiet office. A dark haired man was sitting behind the desk, light reflecting off his glasses. "Wait outside, Al, and shut the door." He said, folding his hands on top of his desk.

Alphonse's back stiffened, and he looked like he was going to protest. Scar moved past the younger man, and into the dark office. The door shut behind him, and he was immediately aware of someone very large taking up a lot of space against the wall behind him. However, he didn't turn to look. The man looked up at him, then slowly raised a hand and pointed to a chair. His expression was utterly unreadable.

Scar remained standing, waiting

The man picked up a folder on his desk and tossed it at the Ishbalan, who caught it easily. He glanced at the name on the filing tab and felt his blood run cold. Of course, they would have a file on him. It only made sense. Nevertheless, to see it, to feel the weight of it in his hands, that was something different.

"I trust Al's judgement." The man said, his tone soft, but his eyes hard as they met Scar's. "I think he knows what he's doing. But he is a very forgiving soul. A good person."

A large, heavy hand came to rest on Scar's shoulder. It was covered in alchemic tattoos.

"I'm going to let you walk out of this office for _his_ sake. I recommend you remember that. Let him go, Grace."

The hand slipped away, and Scar heard the door opening behind him.

"Take the file with you. I think you should find it… fascinating."

The hand came to rest on Scar's shoulder again, but lightly this time. _"Time to go."_ the owner said in badly accented Ishbalan. He turned to look into the owner's face, but found himself face to chest instead. He had to look up. A Xianian, but an unusually tall one. He'd never heard of any of them coming this far west. Her dark eyes flashed for just a moment with something resembling sympathy.

On the other hand, maybe it was just a trick of the light. She was certainly unsympathetic when she shoved him out of the office.

He could see the worried look on Alphonse's face replaced by one of relief, then annoyance as he caught sight of the folder. "Lovely."

The girl was watching him through her bangs.

A man – really little more than a boy – came running in, red faced and out of breath. "Another—" he gasped, looking towards Alphonse. "Tree… Just outside of Tully's."

It was Izabel who was out of the door first, leaping over her desk and nearly running over the messenger. Alphonse didn't take long to follow, stopping only a moment to grab Scar's hand and drag him along. Despite her much shorter legs, Izabel remained well in the lead, though whether this was because she was just faster or because Alphonse had to lead Scar, the Ishbalan did not know. The military complex gave way to Central's well-ordered streets, then to the dirty, winding Warrens, the poor sector. Here was where the Ishbalans who came to Central lived.

"How… does she-" Scar gasped. How long had it been since he'd made such a mad dash? It felt like his chest was on fire.

"Less talking. More running." Alphonse gasped out, still holding on to Scar's hand. Izabel was no longer in sight, but the Alchemist knew where he was going.

* * *

Izabel ignored the corpse for the moment, and the other officers, and everything else. Now there was only the work. She drew out her chalk and crouched in front of the bar's door. "Everyone back," she said, pressing the chalk to the cracked flagstones. A part of her mind noted that nobody argued. These men knew what happened when they argued with her. 

She walked slowly, bent over so the chalk made a solid line. The circle encompassed the corpse (_'He's got a little boy in Abe's class.' _The non-Alchemist part of her mind pointed out) and the spreading pool of blood. She stepped into the circle and began filling in the complex array. She had to work quickly, before the resonance faded. This time, she would catch the killer's face.

She heard Alphonse and Scar arrive, but that didn't matter.

The array was done.

* * *

Scar watched with a kind of horrified fascination as Izabel pressed her fingers to the array she was crouched in the middle of. It flared briefly, and a shadowy shape appeared at the edge, by the door to the bar. The shadow bore more than a passing resemblance to a corpse. 

The shadow turned towards the door and waved, walking away. Another shadow, a large, cloaked shadow, approached the staggering one. As the first reached where the corpse laid, the cloaked shadow's arm lashed out, and a large hand caught his face. There was a flash, and a spray of gore, and the shadow man fell where the corpse lay.

The glow of the array faded completely, and Izabel swore foully in Ishbalan.

Alphonse released Scar's hand. "Damn." He murmured, pulling out a cigarette.

"He used my…" Scar said softly.

"Yeah." Alphonse stepped into the array and crouched next to the body. "Adolph Wallick, Tree Alchemist. Specialized in plant alchemy. He was working on a method of urban farming."

"He's got a son." Izabel added.

Scar looked down at the corpse. The trauma had burst one eyeball, and blood was congealing around the other eye, mouth, nose, and ears. A livid bruise spread out from the shattered nose and across the cheekbones. It was very familiar to Scar.

He looked so very young. He would have been a child during the Ishbalan campaign.

"Scar. Hood." Alphonse hissed, standing up straight.

Scar immediately put up the hood of his jacket and looked around.

The approaching man was someone important. His uniform was ostentatious, covered in medals and braid. He looked at Izabel and sniffed derisively, and he didn't even bother to acknowledge Scar. "Major Elric, I believe it is time you and your…" he sneered, "friends were off."

"Brigadier General Wagner?" Alphonse said, his eyebrows drawing together. "I am the investigating officer, sir."

"Not anymore." Wagner said. "You've wasted enough time with your idiotic theories and your Ishbalan sympathies. Of course, it is only to be expected, I suppose." He sneered again at Izabel, who had her back to the General. Scar could see her face. It bore the kind of look that could have boiled lead. Her hands were shaking as her put her chalk away. Suddenly, Scar felt a bit more sympathy for the young heretic. How much was this job really worth to her, that she would tolerate _this_?

Alphonse was rather clearly displeased with the general and his tone as well. His knuckles were white, and there was something about the way he smiled with his cigarette clenched in his teeth. "Is that so?" he said coldly. "And to whom should I give my case files?"

"I will send my aid by to pick them up directly. Dismissed, Major."

"Yes. Sir." The 'sir' came out very forced. Something about the way Alphonse said it made Scar's hair stand on end. "Major Ishtar, are you ready?"

Izabel walked past the general without a word to anyone, bracelets and bangles chiming musically as she went. Alphonse put a hand on Scar's shoulder and jerked his head in the direction she had gone, and then followed. Scar followed slowly behind the Alchemist, studying the general. Something about the man was familiar.

The two Alchemists and the Ishbalan walked back to the headquarters in silence, Izabel still visibly trembling with rage, right up until they saw Lt. Colonel Fury and his Xianian shadow standing on the steps of the building.

"He's only going to make things worse." Alphonse growled.

"I didn't have a choice, Major." Fury said. "You _know_ that."

Something in Alphonse's tone made the Xianian giant step in front of Fury. This was a good thing, as Izabel chose that moment to loose what control she had left. She launched herself at him, screaming obscenities that managed to surprise even Scar with their venom.

She was _fast._

Grace and Alphonse were faster.

Scar didn't even have time to react before the Xianian giant caught the Ishbalan woman in the stomach with a kick that sent her flying back. Before she had time to recover, Alphonse had grabbed both her hands and forced them behind her back. With careful calculation, he knocked her legs out from under her, laying her out flat and knelt on her back. Fury cleared his throat, keeping Grace between himself and the still struggling woman.

"What is she saying?" Fury asked.

"I don't know." Allophones said.

"You don't _want_ to know." Scar added quietly. Grace nodded.

Where _had_ she picked up that kind of language?

Scar thought it wise to keep well away from Izabel and to just listen. He was actually picking up quite a lot of information by doing that. In addition, he was even expanding his vocabulary.

He began putting things together as Alphonse tried to calm Izabel down.

Brigadier General Wagner did not like Ishbalans. In addition, he had done his best in the past to make sure Izabel suffered. Moreover, his parents were a she-dog and a drunken camel that had not married. Now he was going to foul up her case.

"Izabel, will you please calm down?" Alphonse pleaded.

"Bastard…" Izabel growled. She stopped struggling, going limp suddenly. "He doesn't care what he does to us…"

"Izzy?" The clear tones of a young boy's voice rang out. Abraham walked down the steps, his red eyes wide as he looked at the gathered adults. Alphonse released Izabel, who got shakily to her feet. The boy was at her side in a flash, a hand wrapping around hers.

"Abraham, akushla…" she murmured, stroking the boy's black curls.

"_What happened?"_ the child asked in Ishbalan.

"_The Beast makes things worse, as always."_ Izabel replied. "Alphonse, may I impose upon you to watch my brother tonight? I fear I require some time alone to collect my thoughts." She was still stroking Abraham's hair, but there was a far off look in her eye that boded no good for anyone who got in her way.

"Sure. No problem." Alphonse said. "Right, Abe?"

Abraham looked up at his sister, then to Alphonse, and nodded slowly. Reluctantly, Izabel planted a kiss on her brother's forehead. "All is settled, then. My apologies, Lt. Colonel. Major Choi." She rested a hand on Abraham's head a moment longer before leaving.

She was not headed towards the Barracks.

Scar saw Fury and his bodyguard exchange looks, and saw the man nod. The Xianian took off after the Ishbalan with the kind of speed and quiet one would not normally attribute to someone so large.

"Brigadier General Wagner's brother was a State Alchemist, you know." Fury said to Alphonse. "Killed several years ago. The killer was never punished." His dark eyes caught Scar's.

'_I am not ashamed of what I've done.'_ Scar thought, knowing that his thoughts showed on his face. _'And nothing you do will make me ashamed.'_

"Let's go." Alphonse said, putting a hand on Abe's shoulder. "I'd rather not get rained on."

Scar glanced up at the sky and noticed for the first time the gathering rain clouds.

* * *

Abraham Ishtar was eight years old, and his world was one of absolute certainty. 

Ishbala was in heaven, and Imandote was his prophet upon the earth.

His sister was the prettiest girl in the world.

Elysia Hughes, the second prettiest girl in the world, would one day be his wife.

Azazel was the earthly incarnation of Satan.

And Alphonse Elric was the perfect man for his sister.

Scar threw this last certainty into doubt.

Now, Abe was considerably more observant than most people gave him credit for. Just because he didn't blab about every little thing he saw (unlike that annoying baby Klaus) didn't mean he didn't notice things.

Like how Al watched Scar. Or how _Scar_ watched _Al_.

Or how Azazel had been banished to the balcony. Al _never_ banished Azazel to the balcony, not even for his brother.

And this told Abraham many things that he did not particularly like. These were things that threw off all his plans.

"Okay!" Al said, clapping his hands together. "We're having 'serve yourself' finger food. Dig in." He waved a plate and gently swept an inquisitive kitten off the table.

Abe looked at Scar. The old man was sitting very still. Claudia had wrapped herself around his shoulders, and was currently contemplating biting his ear. Abe could tell by the way that her tail was twitching. Scar was ignoring her. He was watching Al eat.

'_What,'_ Abe wondered, _'is so interesting about how he eats?'_

"It's gonna get cold, you know." Al pointed out. This seemed to startle Scar out of whatever he was thinking.

Abe decided that what he needed was a sounding board for his thoughts, someone who could help him. He looked around, more for show than anything, as he put the idea forming in his mind into words. "You know, Mrs. Hughes has a guest bedroom, and this place is so small with everyone…"

* * *

Scar had been in Central almost four days now. He had spent most of those four days noticing things. One of the things he had noticed about Alphonse Elric was that he paced when he was thinking. 

And he always had a lit cigarette on hand. However, he'd only get in a couple of puffs. The rest of it burned away as it dangled from his fingers.

That was what one was doing now, as the Alchemist was talking on the phone with this 'Mrs. Hughes'.

"If you're sure it's no trouble… Yeah, it was somewhat sudden for me too, but it was a bit of an emergency… She's with Grace... No, she didn't... I was there, Gracia, and I assure you, she would never do something like that… no matter how badly she wants to... Well, I do too… You have no idea how huge a help this is… Why does everyone keep saying that? Honestly. Thank you, Gracia. I'll see you later."

Scar glanced at the cause of the conversation, who was staring at him intently, a slight frown on his face. "What?" Scar growled, turning his full attention on the boy.

"Nothing."

Scar scowled. The boy was lying. He carefully removed the beast that had attached itself to his neck and let it rejoin the rest of the infestation.

"Elysia's going to pick you up, Abe." Al called from near the kitchen.

_That_ got an interesting reaction out of the boy.


	6. Chapter 6: The Sounds of Silence

_A/N: Now... I know there are other people reading this. So, why aren't you reviewing? Is it really THAT bad:makes the sad puppy face: I'd even welcome reviews telling me that it sucks. That way I'd know what not do to. Once again, hugs and bishonen to Mint Pizza Queen for beta-ing. And Happy Belated birthday to my loyal reviewer. Scar's in the cake now, and it should be on its way to you._

"Where will she go?" Scar asked, watching Alphonse intently. The Alchemist didn't need to ask who 'she' was.

"Down to the Ishbalan quarter to warn them." He said. "Wagner's going to lower the boom on them until the case breaks." He frowned, running a hand through his hair. "This isn't the first time. Last time there was almost a riot. This time…" Alphonse trailed off with a small sigh. "It's gonna be bad." He paced from the front of the couch to the balcony door, back and forth. "Dammit dammit dammit!"

"Wagner's brother…"

Alphonse fell silent for a long time. "He was a nice guy. Got certified a year after Brother." That was, clearly, all he would say on the matter.

"Ah."

Again silence reigned. It was a heavy, guilty kind of silence. Alphonse turned to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a particularly thick leather bound volume. Without a word, he sat down next to Scar and opened it. It was filled with photographs. The Alchemist turned a few pages, then stopped, tapping a picture of a blond girl. "That's my friend Winry. She's an automail mechanic. Her parents were doctors who went to Ishbala. They were executed for helping the Ishbalans. The man who did it was never officially punished." He looked up and caught Scar's eyes. "But he's spent the rest of his life trying to atone for what he did. He put himself in danger over and over again to try and make things right. He's still trying, as a matter of fact." Alphonse closed the photo album. "It's all any of us can do to atone for our sins."

Scar was never sure why he did what he did next. Maybe there was just something about the look on Alphonse's face. Nobody so well intentioned should ever look so guilty over anything.

The Ishbalan put his fingers under Alphonse's chin and brought his head up. Before the younger man could pull away, Scar captured his lips in a kiss. _'His lips are chapped, and he tastes like an ashtray.'_ the older man thought as he slipped his tongue past Alphonse's teeth. He couldn't decide if this was unpleasant or not.

_Alphonse_ certainly didn't seem to have any objections.

* * *

Scar wasn't sure what time it was. It seemed Alphonse didn't believe in having clocks in the bedroom. It was almost late enough now to be considered 'early', he was fairly sure. And something was squeezing itself under the door, like a boneless puddle of furry ooze. Alphonse made a noise in his sleep and rolled over, dragging all the covers with him.

Evil yellow eyes blazed in the darkness as Azazel squeezed under the door, malice aforethought. Scar could almost tell what the beast was thinking. '_You are utterly without protection. I can easily leap the distance between us. You. Shall. Suffer.'_

The beast was bunching itself up for the leap when Al sat up, eyes still closed. "Azazel! No!"

The monster froze, then slithered back under the door.

Alphonse flopped back down and opened a single gray eye. "Go back to sleep. It's only two in the morning.

* * *

Al got out of bed as quietly as he could in an effort not to wake Scar… and failed miserably by stepping on a cat, which made her displeasure known in the loudest way possible. The Ishbalan was awake in an instant, totally alert. Al picked up the cat (Ysabelle, he realized upon closer inspection) and held her until she calmed down. "Just a cat." He told Scar as he stood up, depositing the offending feline on the bed. With an impish grin, he planted a quick kiss on the Ishbalan, then picked up a pair of pajama bottoms lying on the floor with his toes and headed for the bathroom to begin his morning rituals.

He was back out of the bathroom and heading for the balcony before Scar had finished untangling himself from the sheets. A twinge of worry hit Al then. What if something had happened to Izabel last night? She'd been very upset when she'd taken off, and upset people did very stupid things.

Lighting a cigarette, he pushed open the balcony doors and stepped out into the pre-dawn air. The courtyard was empty, but not for long.

Relief washed through Al as he saw Izabel head for her usual spot, though this morning there was something different.

Grace was with her, heading for the wall opposite Al's flat. She settled against it, arms folded over her massive chest.

"What are you doing?" Scar asked quietly, coming out onto the balcony.

"Morning ritual." Al said. "Care to join me?"

Scar seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded, settling against the rail next to Al.

Izabel began to dance.

"So you watch her pray every morning?"

"Is that what she's doing?"

Scar nodded. "She's not really an Ishbalan," he said. "She belongs to the followers of Imandote. Heretics."

"How so?" Al asked, genuinely curious. Izabel would never discuss religion with him, except to say she was really bad at it.

Scar was quiet as he thought of how to explain it. "Imandote was an Alchemist who lived several hundred years ago, out in the desert. He had a few followers who thought he was Ishbala's chosen Prophet, despite the fact that Ishbala forbids the use of Alchemy. And so they are not Ishbalan, really. They're supposed to be pacifists."

"I see. I think." Al said slowly, taking a long drag off his cigarette. It went a long way towards explaining a few things, that was for sure.

"So you do this… every morning." Scar repeated.

"Mm-hm."

"And she's alright with this."

"She doesn't know."

Scar looked out over the courtyard. "If she doesn't, she will soon."

Grace was looking right at them, a large grin on her face. Al raised a hand and waved.

* * *

Al and Scar were eating breakfast when the explosion rocked the building. Glass in the windows cracked, and several cats lost their balance and fell of their perches on the counter. "What the hell was that?" Al demanded of the air as he rushed out the door, still clad only in the pajama bottoms.

He returned only a few moments later, rushing for the bedroom.

"Somebody's blown up the school!"


	7. Chapter 7: Gone Away

_A/N: It's that time again… I offer thanks and bishies to Mint Pizza Queen, my beloved Beta reader, for making sure that this story doesn't suck. And I want to thank Mauzkateer for reviewing! Yes, I know you wanted to see more of Al and Scar together, but wouldn't have allowed the whole scene I had in my head, and cutting it off at any point after where I did probably would have been just as bad. As soon as I get around to making an account, I'll post it there. Also! I have FINISHED the story, but I'm holding the rest of the chapters hostage until I get at least THREE reviews!_

_Yes, this is me being real stuble._

It was like something out of Al's worst nightmare. Five stories of solid stone and wood, now a large pile of rubble… a tomb filled with innocent children. People swarmed the mound, digging desperately. He could see Brother working feverishly to crumble the rubble into smaller, easier to shift pieces, and Rose and Klaus working with buckets to shift the rubble out of the way.

A flash of light drew Al's eyes over to where Izabel was frantically scrabbling at the rubble, screaming her brother's name as though her heart would break. Grace worked besides her, using her alchemically enhanced strength to toss the larger chunks of stone away. Al was aware of a cacophony of voices joining with Izabel's, calling out to sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, all buried somewhere down there.

Al didn't know where to start.

The part of his mind that was still functioning informed the rest of him that he was in shock.

"William!" Rose's voice cut through the fog in Al's brain, and he dashed towards his family.

Ed was carefully pulling his bruised and bloodied stepson from the hole they'd found him in. Rose embraced her firstborn tightly as Ed shimmied back down the hole to get another student.

Al took over the digging, drawing arrays and quickly using them to be rid of the rocks. All that mattered was getting to the kids.

Time passed oddly for the rescuers as they battled the odds. For Al, it seemed like only minutes had passed since he'd arrived, but when someone pulled him away for some water and a short break, he saw the sun was already past its zenith. Looking around, he tried to take stock of the situation without seeing the rows of white draped bodies laid in the clear space. For every one that made it out alive, there seemed to be a dozen that did not.

Al quickly looked away from the bodies, checking on his friends and family.

Ed was still digging through the wreckage, slowly but surely, that grim and determined look on his face. Rose was tending to the children pulled from the wreckage, and to the rescuers who had managed to injure themselves, while staying protectively close to her children. The entire Investigations Department was there, organized by Fury and searching methodically.

Izabel was still scrambling with increased franticness beside the stolid Grace. Al could see that her fingers were bloody, but she didn't seem to notice.

Even Furhur Mustang was there; his sleeves rolled up, working right next to…

_Scar._

Neither man seemed to have noticed the other.

It might have been funny, under other circumstances. Right now, it simply wasn't.

Al joined the Ishbalan and the Furhur, silently going back to work with the two men.

* * *

It was almost dark when Mustang found Elysia and Abraham.

"Izabel! Over here!" Al called as Scar climbed down into the hole.

Elysia looked up at them through her cracked glasses, her face stained with rock dust, tears, and blood. Abe's head was cradled in her lap, and the boy was unnaturally pale, with beads of sweat on his brow. Al could see that his pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked black. One leg was trapped beneath a large chunk of wall, and Elysia had tied her school jacket just above his knee to try to stop the flow of blood to the crushed leg.

"We're going to have to amputate the leg." Scar said, kneeling beside the boy. "Even with the tourniquet in place, he'll bleed out if the wound isn't sealed. If we cut it off and cauterize the wound, we might be able to save him."

"Abraham acushla." Izabel whispered, climbing into the hole and kneeling at her brother's side. She stroked his face, her fingers leaving bloody trails in their wake. He moaned weakly in response.

Izabel activated the arrays on her jewelry and formed a wicked looking blade, then looked to Mustang, biting her lower lip.

"I'll close the wound as soon as the leg's off." Mustang assured her.

"Elysia, hold him tight." Izabel said in a pained voice, and raised the blade.

* * *

Scar was sitting with Abraham, watching the boy sleep the sleep of the drugged. Izabel was in the chair beside his bed in a similar state, thanks to a carefully administered cup of tea.

Scar was there only because the doctors under pain of drugging and being tied to a bed had forced everyone else who had been digging off. They insisted that everyone needed a good rest, and that it was time to let fresh people dig.

Scar was not resting. He was thinking as he stared at the flat place under the covers where Abe's right leg should have been.

They had been forced to drag Elysia out of the room. She'd kept babbling about how Abe had saved her, and that it was all her fault he was hurt. She'd been walking him to class when it'd happened.

Alphonse had disappeared almost an hour ago to make some phone calls.

Scar had spent that time thinking a great deal. In fact, he was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice Alphonse return.

"I called Winry," he said. "She's going to come here with her apprentice and see if they can make a new leg for Abe. They should be on a train about now."

"Wagner said I did it." Scar said.

"Wagner, I must point out, is full of shit."

"But he's right, in a way. I helped make this."

"_This_ is not your fault." Alphonse said firmly. "_You_ never attacked children."

"Wagner's uniform was very neat."

"Yes," Alphonse agreed darkly, looking down at his own disheveled state, "it was. Bastard." He flopped bonelessly into the room's last chair.

"How is Edward's family?"

"Everyone's fine. Klaus and Hilde are too young for school, thank God, and William was one of the lucky ones. Brother is exhausted, but that's to be expected." Alphonse stole a glance at Izabel's bandaged hands. She'd managed to rip out four fingernails and cut open both palms when she'd been digging.

Both men tried very hard not to think of the unluckiest children and their families.

* * *

Unrest moved through Central like a fog, enveloping everyone in its cold embrace. The tension in the air was so thick it could have been cut into blocks and chewed.

Izabel spent all of her time by Abe's bedside, and Scar and Alphonse staid by them both as much as possible. A stream of visitors also came through, with Grace being the most frequent of them. The Xianian never said anything, just sat with Izabel and held her hand. Elysia Hughes was the second most requent, bringing food and drinks every time she came. She would have staid in the room all the time is she could have gotten away with it.

Abraham always came alive when the older girl was visiting. The rest of the time, it was as if he was in a stupor, though that may have been because of the opiates the doctors had him on.

Today, the first visitors were a blond woman and a very pale young man with a shapeless black hat. Scar didn't recognize either of them. However, Alphonse did.

The blond major leapt out of his seat and embraced the woman. "Winry! I'm sorry I didn't meet you at the station, but with everything going on…"

"It's okay." Winry said brightly. "With all the times Ed's wrecked his automail, I know how to get from the station to every hospital in Central. So, let's have a look at the patient." She bustled to Abe's bedside. "Good morning!"

'_How could anyone be so chipper?'_ Scar found himself wondering as Winry's bright eyes came to rest on him.

"Winry, this is my friend Scar." Alphonse said, clearing his throat. Scar, this is Winry Rockbell. I told you about her."

There was something about the knowing was the automail mechanic smiled at Scar that he didn't like.

The pale man slipped as silently as a ghost did to Winry's side. "Hello, Miss Ishtar," he said in a subdued voice, slipping the hat off his head. A pair of ram horns curved from his brow to behind his ears, but this seemed to come as a surprise only to Scar. "May we examine the limb?"

Al put a hand on Scar's shoulder and jerked his head towards the door. Reluctantly, Scar obeyed, following the Alchemist outside before demanding some kind of explanation. Al shook his head with a small sigh. "I swear, Cyrus is taller every time I see him. I probably should have warned you. He's a chimera."

"I noticed." Scar said flatly.

"But he's a damned good mechanic, and a nice boy. It's not his fault his mother did that to him. They'll take good care of Abe."

Scar made a non-committal noise, his right clenching.


	8. Chapter 8: Boom

_Author's Note: Thank you to those who caved in to my demands and reviewed. As I promised... three reviews, one new chapter. And if you all want to see the next chapter, you should start reviewing ASAP._

_Of course, this chapter probably sucks. I'm really bad at writing action._

The riot broke out ten days after the school was destroyed. A mob of Central citizens was trying to storm the Ishbalan sector in retaliations for the attack, and the Ishbalans were fighting back. All the Alchemists in Central were ordered to stop the riot before it could engulf the entire city.

It was Izabel's first day back, and Al could almost feel her anger coming off in waves.

"It's like a war zone," someone said as the State Alchemist surveyed the riot. "What do we do?"

"We bust some heads." Grace growled, leaping into the fray.

Most of the Alchemists, like Al, adopted a strategy that mostly involved separating the combatants, but more than a few took their frustrations out on the rioters. Al quickly lost track of Izabel in the chaos… until someone shouted, "**_Cover!_**"

Al dropped to the ground and managed to shield his eyes just before the dazzling burst of light engulfed the city street. That gave the Alchemists a bit of time, since they were the only ones who had managed to cover their eyes before the blinding light hit.

Al did not see her again, for what seemed like hours, but he knew it could only have been a few minutes. She was kneeling beside a man who had had his head caved in, drawing an array on the ground with his blood. She pressed her stained fingers to the circle, and it exploded in light.

The sky broke open; rain and lightning sheeting down like the wrath of God. It drove the rioters and the Alchemists apart, much like throwing a bucket of water on two dogs can get them to separate.

Al stood in the pouring rain and watched it was away the blood on the street.

Scar was a suspicious man by nature. One could even say he had some trust issues.

One person he most defiantly did not trust was Brigadier General Dolph Wagner. Despite being an Alchemist, he hadn't gone with the others to quell the riot.

Scar knew this because he'd just seen the man walking away from the hospital, right under Abraham's window, and towards the main administration building, which had been largely evacuated in fear that there might be another attack.

Scar had followed him. He wanted very badly to know several things that only Wagner could answer.

All and all, the Ishbalan wasn't very surprised to see Wagner enter the Furhur's office, one of the few still occupied, as Mustang had outright refused to hide from any threat. Nor did the explosion that followed overly surprise him, shaking the building to its foundation and cracking all the windows.

The rain leaking through the new cracks in the ceiling was a bit of a shock, but not enough of one to stop Scar from bursting into what was left of the office… or falling through the hole where the office floor had been.

For someone who had just been through an explosion, Wagner looked surprisingly neat as he stood over the stunned Furhur, the rain beating down on them. Wagner was laughing, though the storm tore the sound away. Both Scar and Mustang watched in horror as the man rolled up his sleeve, revealing the array tattooed on his right arm, glowing an evil red.

His plan was clear to Scar. Kill the Furhur. Blame the Ishbalans. Incite the people to genocide.

Wagner hadn't reckoned on two things, however. The first was that Mustang wasn't one to go down without a fight. The second was Scar.

Even as Wagner bent to put an end to the one eyed Furher's life, Mustang's foot lashed out, catching the Brigadier General in the crotch. The murderous traitor let out a howl and folded a little, trying to force air back into his lungs. This stopped him just long enough for Scar to close the distance. The Ishbalan grabbed Wagner's right arm just above the elbow, unholy energy pulsing through his own arm.

Wagner only just had time to register what was going on before Scar unleashed the destruction on him, blowing the Brigadier General's arm off. The man howled with pain and fury, and in his eyes Scar saw madness, anger… and overwhelming grief.

"This ends here." Scar growled, slamming his forehead into Wagner's face. It took a second slam to force the man into unconsciousness.

Scar sank down to the ground next to the incapacitated Wagner, locking eyes with Mustang.

They stared at each other for what felt like a very long time.


	9. Chapter 9: Imandote

_A/N: I should hold my stories hostage more often. I mean, if that's what it takes to get reviews..._

_In case you all haven't guessed, this is the last chapter. But don't fret! Coming soon to a computer screen near you: **Scars: Chimera! Scars: Don't Call Them 'Shorts'! **And **Scars: Homonculus!**_

_Also, an extended version of The Scene in chapter Six will soon be up on my brand new LiveJournal (check my profile for the link)._

_Oh, and Grosser? If you need to fart, do it._

**Epilogue: Imandote**

Scar knew that what he was doing was for the best. Alphonse was better off without him.

_Yes_, the Furhur _had_ granted him a full pardon for saving his life, but Scar knew in his bones that it wouldn't be long until someone else targeted him for revenge, or targeted Alphonse, to get to Scar.

Yes. This was for the best.

"You know…" Roy Mustang drawled from the shadows of the courtyard, "I thought you were going to Rizenbul with Major Elric and Major Ishtar when young Abraham gets his new leg."

Scar froze, studying the one eyed man intently. Roy smiled an enigmatic smile and stepped out into the light.

"Or have you decided to be oh so noble, and leave for his own good?" he asked in faintly mocking tones.

"I don't see how it's any of your affairs." Scar said coldly. He wondered just _why_ he'd bothered to save this man.

Mustang studied him with that coal black eye. "I'd rather not have Alphonse traipsing all over the world hunting for you."

"He has more sense than that. He knows-"

"--how to get what he wants." Mustang interrupted, raising an admonishing finger. "He's very good at that. Stubborn too." His smile faded. "You're too old for him, you have too many enemies, and you aren't very bright. Nevertheless, Alphonse likes you. And he _will_ keep looking." He looked up at the moon, handing fat and white above them. "It's not such a bad thing to be loved, you know," he said wistfully. "And if you give it up, you'll always regret it."

Scar wondered for a moment where the blond lieutenant who had been Mustang's constant companion all those years ago was now, and suspected that the answer was 'long gone'. "Are you done?"

"Almost." Mustang said, the smile returning. "Just one more thing."

"And that is…?"

"Resistance is futile. That's it. Goodnight." The Furhur walked away, hands clasped behind his back.

The rain came down gently as Scar considered his words.

THE END


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